The joys (and desperation) of raising a boy without a man

Fuck. I Am Finally Over It.

Before you read this and think it’s for you, I’m sorry but it’s not yours. It was written for me.

Every letter, each word that you see here is mine.

The tears that fell hard on the keys of this computer are not yours to touch. They fell solely for me. The last drop that fell from my cheek has now dried. The cleansing is done.

I have washed my soul.

My memories are cast and the wind has taken the thoughts that compulsively span around my mind. My eyes no longer seek to catch sight of a love we once shared.

Fuck. I survived. Thank fucking God.

Thank the hours that I trembled, thank the cold hard floors that held my bones and thank the aches that tore through my stomach when you left me empty and raw. Thank loneliness.

Thank you.

I experienced it all.

I learned to feel love. I learned to feel numb. And I stumbled and crumbled and fell into a hole so deep I thought I would never be able to crawl out. It was brutal and it chaotically ravaged my soul.

Some people drink. Some smoke. Some binge eat. And some, like myself, love blindly and desperately. I guess each person kills herself differently.

And that’s what happened. I died.

I lived under your spell. I was enchanted.

But your rejection, not only towards me, but also towards him, dealt vicious blows and brought me down onto my knees.

I cried out your name. I screamed so loud but no sound came out. No one heard and no one came to the rescue.

So, I mourned alone your death.

I didn’t know what was there at the end of our line. I was terrified to let go of the memories. I felt as if I had to hold on for him.

Then it hit me harder. There was nothing to hold on. The loss happened a year ago when you told me the most cruel things I have ever heard. Those words drove me to hell and left me there to burn. For way longer than I could take.

I had to stand up and open my eyes. I’ve carried this pain for too long. I’ve taken you with me, all because I couldn’t let go, even though you were never really there.

Time heals. It soothes old wounds and patches up scars.

Time is ironic. Time brings strangers together to heal each other.

Time teaches there’s no need to hold. Holding is heavy. Holding is agony. Holding prolongs all the pain.

Time forgets the things I rather remember. Time remembers the things I’d rather forget.

Time is messy and always gets confused.

But, time clears. Eventually.

Thank fuck. I’ve suffered enough, though my most of my injuries were self-inflicted.

But now, this is the last drop. I’m empty of you. And I am ready for the twists and turns the future might hold.